The stench of Ancient Death
by Werecat99
Summary: Ever wondered how the Loct City became lost? Follow a necromancer and find out. ***Complete!***
1. The necromancer

Author:Werecat99

Feedback: tashenubaste@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: The Diablo world belongs to BLIZZARD. Aurion is a character I created based on the Diablo II computer RPG and I'm making no money of him.

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*italics* indicate flashbacks or dreams**.**

The stench of Ancient Death

CHAPTER 1: The Necromancer.

The shadows grew longer on the hot desert sands. 

The pale man crawled out of his tend and lifted his hand to shade his eyes as he looked around. He was tall and slender, with long, white hair. He wore an old combat armor and dusty leather boots. To an unfamiliar eye he would look just like an ordinary traveler, someone who wouldn't really stand a chance against the desert horrors.

But looks can be deceiving.

That man was a necromancer, and his name was Aurion. A name well respected and feared even among his kin.

He looked around until he located his iron golem. Tough one, this last of his summoned minions. Forged out of an ancient sword with the power of ice, it had even survived Andariel. And now it stood still, shinning in the desert twilight, guarding the necromancer during his resting time. Aurion waved a summoning spell and the creature ran to him ready to do his bidding.

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All of his life he had known nothing more than dark mausoleums and dump, cold sepultures. Inside crypts and catacombs he had studied the "Way of the Summoner", invoking the dead and learning how to control the undead and the soulless. In deep, forgotten dungeons he used the white bones and the rotting flesh to call upon the souls of the untimely dead, in order to learn from them secrets of magic long lost. Some came crying, some came cursing, some came silent, but none of them dared to challenge Aurion. And so his arcane knowledge grew.

Inside such a forgotten place he was told of an ancient sword that would freeze its targets with a single strike. Following the directions given he located the artifact in a nearby tomb. He had to take it off the hands of an undead warrior, but all it took was a click of his fingers and three skeleton mages turned his foe to dust. Along with the sword he found a scroll written in an ancient language, one he was not aware of. It was written in strange, snake like symbols that seemed to twist and tremble under his stare. That scroll was written with human blood and reeked of magic.

As the night fell, Aurion and his golem continued their journey in the desert. He always traveled during nighttime, since his pale skin was extremely sensitive to the blazing sunlight. He rarely encountered other travelers at this time. However, there were many creatures that roamed the desert at night in search of prey. The ones that were stupid enough to cross the necromancer's path turned either to ashes or were added to his undead army.

Soon enough they left the Far Oasis behind them and entered a narrow canyon. This place was ideal for an ambush, and Aurion had hoped to find a different way through. But this seemed to be the only way to the Lost City. As they moved carefully through the narrow passage, he felt something piercing his left shoulder, and he fell to his knees blinded by pain.

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He took the scroll back at his sanctuary. In the next few months he summoned the dead every night. They told him the Prime Evils would walk the land again. They told him that Andariel had taken over the monastery and defiled the lands around it. They told him that a Dark Wanderer was in search of Tal Rasha's tomb. But when asked about the ancient scroll the dead fled back to oblivion, crying and screaming and howling, risking the necromancer's wrath. The scroll was cursed and feared even by the dead. And Aurion craved more each day to drink from its secrets.

In this moment of vulnerability, the iron golem did not fail its master. It advanced, seized the Spear Cat who had wounded Aurion and in a heartbeat he tore off her arm. And then he reached inside her ribcage and tore out her heart. The other Spear Cats fled in terror.

Aurion stood slowly up and inspected his wound. No bones were broken, but the tissue damage meant no more travelling for the night. He looked out for a safe spot to make camp and heal his wounds. As he walked, the golem followed him, still carrying the bloody remains of its victim.

Beside the campfire, the necromancer noticed that the weapon that had hit him was poisoned. No big deal; he was practically immune to most poisons, after years of practicing with corpses and rotting flesh and feasts of unspeakable substances and fluids, in honor of his Dark Lords. The poison would slowly be absorbed by his system. As for the wound, he mixed some dried herbs he took out of his backpack with the Spear Cat's blood. As he mixed them, he recited an ancient chant. This was a remedy he once learned from a barbarian's spirit and had proved valuable. He closed his eyes and let the healing process begin.

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	2. The Summoning

CHAPTER 2: The Summoning

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The news of Diablo walking the land once more reached the ancient city of Rathma. But Aurion did not care. Others left to seek knowledge and riches and power, and no one ever learned what became of them. And Aurion kept calling the dead, inquiring about the ancient scroll. And every night his rituals failed, because the secrets it held were terrifying even for the damned. 

Until one night a familiar spirit came to his summoning. It was the spirit of Ragna, and old friend and companion of his early years of arcane studies. He knew him and his sister well, and now Aurion had to bring her the news of Ragna's death in Hell by the blade of a fallen angel. Aurion asked his friend's spirit about the scroll, and the spirit screamed and twisted and tried to break off the summoning spell. But his death was recent; his corpse still warm in Hell; and his ties with this plane and his sister still strong. So Aurion kept pressing the spirit for an answer, pleading at first, cursing in the end and tossing threats on Ragna's sister.

Then, it all came to a halt. The spirit of the human who once was his friend looked him in his eyes and whispered a few words. In a heartbeat, a silver flame consumed the spirit and the whole room burst on fire. Aurion ran out just a minute before the explosion that threw him on the wall and left him unconscious. When he came to, most of his belongings were ashes. But the could still hear the spirit whisper: 

"Lossst cccityyyy.... Ooohhhh, the sssstench of anccient deaathh...."

The next day, Aurion left the city to go after the Dark Wanderer.

A few hours passed and he could feel his strength returning. There was still time before dawn and thought of using this time to learn about the territory ahead. The lifeless body of the Spear Cat was still lying by the golem. He took out his ritual dagger and carefully removed the corpse's hands, eyes and tongue. When he was through, he tossed the bloody remains to his last skeletons to feed on. Along with the Cat's torn heart, he placed the harvested body parts on hot charcoal and started chanting. With each word the air around him grew heavier, as he reached out with his mana to call the Cat's spirit.

The spirit presented itself above the burning flesh. It hissed and roared and howled, but Aurion kept it bound by strong mana chains. And he made his claim, requiring about the land ahead. And the spirit, realizing there was no other way out, told him of the ruins of the city a couple of miles down the road. It old him of the undead walking the ruined streets of the one glorious city, once the jewel of the desert. It whispered the legends known among the desert tribes, tales of past glory and lost treasures and arcane powers hidden under the sands, where an ancient evil still walked.

The necromancer released the spirit. It had served him well and now he was more certain than ever that what secrets the Lost City held had to be his own. He left his minions to guard the camp and went to sleep.

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In his dreams, he found himself flying over majestic gardens and glorious towers. The city streets were alive with people in colorful robes and melodic voices, singing and dancing and rejoicing over their King's first born son. The smoke of burning incense mixed with the scent of flowers rose high in the sky and filled the air around Aurion. Yet, the necromancer could detect another smell, one few mortals were familiar with: the sweet and sour perfume of decaying flesh. 

The stench of Ancient Death. 

Under the necromancer's phasmatic eyes, the city's Royal House burst from the inside out, spitting out Death. 

Aurion woke up in cold sweat. Rarely would a dream scare him, but this was one of the few exceptions. What he saw was most probably a fragment of the past, perhaps the day that an ancient force leveled the Lost City. But his vision suggested that the Entity he had come searching for was of a different nature. Not Evil, not Undead, not Damned, just so alien that was beyond the mortal definitions of either Good or Evil.

Outside, the night was starting to fall once more. His astral travel in the past had lasted more than twenty hours and it was about time he should venture on. He gathered his few earthly belongings, summoned his minions and walked towards his final destination. 

What was left of the once glorious capital was ruins half buried in the sands. As he walked among the debris he could hear the desert wind whispering tales of love, of hopes and dreams, carrying to his mortal ears the voices of the dead. And some of them were still walking among the ruins, not liking the intrusion. They attacked him with hungry growls, reaching for his pale flesh with sharp claws and teeth. His minions took care of them, while Aurion looked for any signs of the ancient knowledge he had come here for. He could feel a presence stir under his feet, located somewhere in the underground. After a few hours of searching and fighting plague bearers and undead creatures he spotted an opening on the ground. Without a second thought, he gestured to his minions to follow him, and stepped into the darkness.

The opening led to a maze of underground tunnels, probably the sewers or the catacombs of the city. He explored most of it, and in every turn he would come across more zombies and skeletons. He had grown impatient now, he could almost taste the Arcane Forces that once walked these halls and these opponents were just keeping him away from his goal. Calling upon his God Trag'Oul, he invoked a powerful bone spear, eliminating everything that stood between himself and the object of his desire. What was left standing behind him was soon destroyed by his minions.

Covered with ashes and blood, cursing humans and demons alike, he finally reached a secluded room. He inspected the dark corners and the dump walls with feverish eyes. It seemed to have been a crypt of some kind. He kneeled and looked carefully to the floor. What other could have missed, Aurion saw: Someone had once drawn a pentacle on the floor with human blood. He reached out with his necromantic skills and sensed the blood. It still held some of the memories of the body it once belonged to. Aurion took a tiny blood particle and tasted it. There it was: the devouring flash of fear; the dark depth of despair; the angry bite of greed and the bright glitter of mana. This was a sorcerer's blood.

In the center of the pentacle Aurion discovered something else: the remains of human bones. Not any human's, but the remains of the spellcaster who once used his own blood to form a protective circle around him. The necromancer commanded his minions to stand guard as he prepared himself for the summoning.

Ashes were mixed with dried blood and flames consumed the sacred herbs. In the smoke that rose from the fire that burned human remains the spirit appeared.

"Who dares to summon Herenwolf, High Priest of Shimara, Servant of the Elder Gods and Last of the Theban Magi?" demanded the spirit.

"A humble servant of Trag'Oul has called on you by the power of blood and bone and the mana you've left behind", replied Aurion.

"Oh, a necromancer!" The spirit sounded amused. "And what do you seek of me, my dear boy? Tales of power and ancient spells? Hidden treasures and long lost enchanted wands?"

"All I wish to know is the secrets this holds", replied Aurion and presented the scroll in his possession.

As he unfolded the parchment, the snake-like letters flashed. And Herenwolf's spirit screamed in agony and tried to break off. Aurion had expected this reaction and enhanced his summoning with the spirit's own mana, creating a loophole among the spirit world and the mortal plane, from which none of them could exit unless Aurion released the summoning.

"You have no idea what you have stumbled on", hissed the spirit. 

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	3. Shimara's Doom

CHAPTER 3: Shimara's Doom.

The environment around them changed, obeying the command of the dead sorcerer. Aurion found himself standing beside a tall dark man, with a well-trimmed black beard wearing elegant purple robes. Around them the dark catacombs had vanished. In their place Aurion could see a magnificent garden. Flower beds and trees, fountains and glorious statues were spread in the area around them, as far as the eye could see. Somewhere in the east he could see a building of some sort, a tower with iridescent walls.

"Walk with me, boy", said Herenwolf. "What you see is just an image of the past. We are in the royal gardens of Shimara, once known as the Desert Star and the crossroads of the realms. Hear my story", said the spirit, "and pass it on to the world. Maybe then this manuscript will bring no more death".

"In a time long forgotten, when your kin hadn't even appeared from the void and the Elder Races still walked on the land, Shimara was the capital city of the realms. In here, everything could be found. Exotic merchandise and adventure, knowledge and arcane lore, love songs and dark vice beyond description. And among the greatest treasures was the secret of immortality. Almost immortality that is, because denizens of Shimara were immune to aging and disease, although they could be killed in combat. The city's ruler Leukius reigned with justice over a mixed population of all kinds of races, most of them extinct by now. I was his advisor and friend, but my loyalties lay elsewhere. My true master was the endless search of Arcane Power and Knowledge. In my crypt inside the Royal House I would study ancient manuscripts and call upon dead gods to enhance my skills and increase my magical abilities. Caravans from other places brought me strange artifacts and parchments, and I would drink deeply from any secrets they held.

One day, I was asked by king Leukius to help one of his subjects, the keeper of the wine cellar. The man was found on the cellar floor mumbling what appeared to be just gibberish and had strange seizures, as if something was burning his brain. I went to the man and casted a healing spell upon him. That seemed to calm him down a little. During this time he told me of a tale he had heard from his great grandfather, as it has passed from the generations before. As he told me, when the world was still young and Shimara just a small village, a star had fallen from the sky. Upon it a temple was built and miracles were perform in it, as the strange rock seemed to alter the environment around it. But with time the power of the star diminished and the temple became the palace. That man thought that he could find a piece of that heavenly rock underneath the wine cellar and sell it. All he found was an old scroll.

Yes, it was the scroll that has found its way to your hands.

The wine keeper died minutes after he gave me the scroll. His brain was actually turned to ashes.

I tried to decipher the scroll, but in vain. So I tried to locate its source under the cellar. I found a small room under it that led to a series of caves. In the last cave there was an opening on the ground, leading to a dark pit. There were traces of an unknown material on the pit edges. It seemed to me that the fallen star had somehow burned its way to the earth's depths. So, I stood there, looking at the bottomless pit, not sure what to do next. I sat down by the edge, took out the manuscript and tried to make some sense of it. And ten, I heard a humming sound from the dark depths of the pit. In my head I heard a voice. A low, seductive voice, that promised me power and arcane knowledge beyond my wildest fantasies. All I had to do was help whoever was talking to me regain some power and walk on the earth again. To achieve that I had to place an offering of innocent blood, of pure horror and despair.

I fled, trying to block out the images that the Entity was projecting to my mind.

Oh, I can see you've had them too. I was promised the powers of a demigod, with the skills to reshape reality at will. But my human blood burned in disgust, even by the thought of the price of the offering. Night by night, the manuscript burned in my hands and in my head, whispering to me promises of grandeur. Until my will broke and my lust for arcane power prevailed.

During that time, the king's companion was pregnant. She was a dark beauty of unknown origin, the last heiress of an extinct race, skilled in spellcrafting and lore. The king fell for her on first sight, probably because of a glamour she had put upon her. The Entity in the dark void under the palace demanded a sacrifice of her blood. Getting close to her was not easy. But a newborn was another story.

On the night of the child's birth, while the city streets were alive with feasts and celebration, I crawled inside the newborn's room. The guards and maids fell to my sleeping spells. I took out an ancient dagger carved on a dragon tooth and slit the baby's chest open. With the warm heart still beating in my hand, I ran to the pit.

I stood at the edge of the pit. I recited ancient chants and invocations, calling upon the Entity. I threw my bloody pledge into the darkness and expected It to appear. But it didn't. How fool was I, believing I could summon such a creature with flesh and blood! Above me, I heard a scream of pure terror and genuine despair. The king's companion had discovered the bloody remains of her child. At that moment, I smelled of rotting flesh and a white tentacle appeared at the edge of the pit".

Herenwolf's Spirit stood silent for a moment, lost in his thoughts. He looked up towards the image of the long gone Royal House and sighed....

"Before me stood the most ancient of all the Gods. The Angel of Death, the Great White Worm, the Eater of Souls who feeds on pain and hatred and despair. He was old as time itself, created along with life, because life cannot exist without death. Nourished by the pain of the woman, who found her newborn slain, and invoked by a foolish sorcerer, he was brought on the surface to deal with those who mocked his dominion. The Great White Worm tore the palace walls down and crawled on to the city streets, feeding on flesh and terror. Soon there was nothing left but the stench of Ancient Death."

The illusion around them faded and Aurion could see the catacomb walls again.

"I fled to the underground catacombs", continued Herenwolf. "I slid my wrists open and casted a protective circle around me. My years of arcane studies helped me control my feelings and keep out fear, so I could go undetected. But It did find me. And it did not kill me, but left Its minions to guard me, the undead you faced to reach this place. And when there was no one left to feed on, It crawled back to the depths where It had came from, carrying with It the secret of immortality. And I was left here to starve to death, weak from the blood loss and my guilt, forgotten by everyone... Until you came".

The spirit stood silent. Aurion looked at the scroll in his hands. It seemed less appealing now. But he still had to ask:

"So, what's the secret this manuscript holds?"

"This is a curse. A bait, if you prefer, that lures greedy wizards into a quest for power, while its true purpose is to invoke the Great White Worm on this plane. It still waits in the dark depths for some other foolish like me to release It, especially those who cheat death and reanimate the dead. Like necromancers, that is", said the sorcerer and laughed.

Aurion released the spirit with an angry gesture. This scroll held a threat to his kin and all of those who dare summon the dead. He should find a way of destroying it.

If plain fire wouldn't burn it, then maybe Hellfire would. In Diablo's lair, then, he would find a way to dispel the stench of Ancient Death.

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Any chance of a review now?

Aurion's tale continues in "Where no Shadows Fall"


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